


One Night in Syria

by InchByInch



Series: Holy Nights [1]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8970844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: Could have happened if Carrie had stayed in the CIA after season 4.





	

Shit, how could it be so fucking cold right now when it was so hot just a few hours ago? Quinn would never get used to the temperature swings in the desert, especially in December. He did appreciate the bleak beauty of the place, however, and one advantage of this quick march straight uphill was that they now had a full view of the surrounding landscape. Even though there was no moon yet, a galaxy of stars lit up every rock and cast undulating shadows over the sand. Quinn allowed himself the rare luxury of lying back to gaze at the sky while Rob and Marco adjusted the communication transmitter.

The radio crackled to life, and Quinn caught Rob’s eye, sharing an unspoken grim assessment. They had to report a shitty situation, and neither man expected that the conversation with Langley would result in needed support. Without it, their chances of making it home were slim to none. Quinn sighed. Sometimes he thought he should welcome death, but the current likelihood of a long, drawn-out, soul-killing road towards that end brought no solace. 

“Alpha group, do you copy?” Dar Adal’s voice, from across continents and oceans. Quinn sat up, picturing the comm room back in Virginia. “Report.”

“Mission accomplished,” replied Rob. “Extraction plans A, B, and C are all unavailable. Request support.” 

So much was conveyed in the terse military language. Quinn hoped (Prayed? He didn’t believe anyone was listening, but he wondered if ‘prayed’ was more accurate than ‘hoped’) their mission would provide salvation for the people of Aleppo. Probably not, but, Jesus, they had to try. The civilians were fucked, and the group’s own fucked-up extraction plans meant they were most likely giving their lives for this effort.

Dar didn’t respond right away, and Quinn raised his eyebrow at Rob. The hesitation suggested Dar might actually break protocol and help them out. 

Then Saul’s voice, “Negative, find a way to make one of those plans work.”

Fucking Saul. 

But his words were interrupted by a loud bang.

From thousands of miles away, Quinn heard a door slam open and a pair of high-heeled shoes storm into the relatively quiet comm room, accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice, expressing an all-too-familiar outrage. Rob unnecessarily signaled for silence. No one other than Saul or Dar was authorized to know about this communication or even the group’s current deployment.

“Dar, you keep fucking telling me that you have no way of contacting him, but just in case you do, you tell that asshole that he is a fucking coward, and he can think about that when he holds his gun close as he sleeps tonight.”

Fuck.

Dar and Saul were apparently both rendered speechless, and after a brief moment of silence, the shoes clicked again, signaling their owner’s departure.

“Carrie.” Quinn couldn’t believe he was speaking, but he wasn’t going to let her just walk out. Rob looked at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“Quinn, thank God.” It was so faint, he had to guess at her words, but he rushed ahead, desperate to connect with her one last time.

“How’s Frannie?” he asked.

“Frannie? Shit, Quinn. She is so fucking adorable. She is cruising around trying to walk. She even said her first word, ‘ball.” It’s as cute as fuck. Not that you have any right to ask, you know that?”

God, she sounded like a real mom. Finally. But why was she so mad at him? A coward? And why had she been trying to reach him through Dar? He had laid his heart bare to her, and she’d been a total bitch, too wrapped up in her own issues to even notice. Still, he could apologize first and figure out what the fuck later. Not usually his strategy, but this situation was unusual.

“I’m sorry, I was an idiot.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Dar bellowed. He seemed to have finally recovered his senses and Quinn supposed it didn’t matter whether he was yelling at him or at Carrie. He couldn’t tell, but she might be sobbing.

Saul was clearly trying to de-escalate the situation. “Carrie, you shouldn’t be here. This isn’t a suicide mission. Whatever you need to say to Quinn you can say at some better time.”

Quinn interrupted, suddenly certain what he needed to say in response to Saul’s lies. The two of them always made a good team. “Carrie, I need you to keep it together. For Frannie and for your…”

“Damn you, Quinn. You come home and tell me that bullshit to my fucking face. Just come home.”

Heels clicking away and a definitive door slam.

Quinn breathed out and lay back on the sand, staring once more into the night sky.

“Holy fuck!” Dar was beyond enraged. “How the hell…If she has bugged this comm room I will personally shut her in the deepest ...”

Saul didn’t sound upset at all. “She hasn’t bugged the comm room, Dar. She’s been analyzing the drone pictures from Syria for months, and she’s put together some God-damned impressive intel. If she's been looking for them, she certainly could have tracked Alpha Group and seen them ascend the hill in real time, a sure sign they were about to break communication silence.”

“That woman is a menace. I hope you know, Peter, that she is ruining your career.”

“Pretty sure that is her primary objective, Sir.” Quinn replied. 

“I'm ordering a full sweep of all... are you laughing?”

From the sound of it, Saul absolutely was laughing. Guffawing, even.

“You find this situation funny?” Dar’s disdain was clear.

“Oh, objectively, this situation is hilarious. I’m sure the guys agree with me, don’t you guys? Come on, I mean, Peter Quinn? Of all people? 

There was a brief pause and then the still desert was filled with hoots of laughter that, truthfully, had only barely been contained a moment before. 

“Oh, man, you dog! You’ve been holding out on us.” “Pete’s bringing the heat!” “You’ve got a kid?” “Have you seen this chick, Rob? Is she hot?” “Sounds like a hellcat!”

The shrieks and hollers continued, and it seemed as though Dar hit the mute button on the comm link.

Quinn ignored them, replaying a months-old phone conversation again in his head. She had said “Not a no.” Wasn’t that the same thing as not a yes? Did Carrie think he had been more afraid of a ‘no’ or of a ‘yes’? For the first time, Quinn wondered how he would feel if he suddenly discovered he had a brother, and why he thought that Carrie, with her bipolar emotions, should be less affected. And what was her primary objective, really? He briefly considered teaching the boys some respect, but he was beginning to hope that she had taken care of that for herself.

“Alpha Group, do you copy?” Dar re-opened the comm link and reverted to standardized language in an attempt to impose order. Everyone shut up.

“Go ahead, Sir.”

“We are sending in extraction support.” You will be retrieved from the following location and taken to Damascus in 42 hours.” Matt scrambled to write down the further details Dar was rattling off, and the rest of the men stared at each other with stunned expressions. 

“We’ll see you at Langley for debrief in five days. Over and out.” With that, the comm crackled off again.

“Well, fuck,” said Rob. “Sounds like Pete’s hellcat has some traction. We’re going to have to move quickly if we want to get this boy home for his date!” 

The men all jumped up, but Quinn, usually the first to obey any order, kept looking up at the sky. The sand was still slightly warm, and he could feel small rocks digging into his back as he wondered what sort of balls Frannie liked.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written fiction before, but I am inspired by the mix of different and creative works on this site.


End file.
